


The Woods

by Oyse_Leroy



Category: Miss Sloane (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26047189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oyse_Leroy/pseuds/Oyse_Leroy
Summary: The excellent movie, "Miss Sloane," ends with the main character, Elizabeth Sloane, being released from prison, with the final shot showing Elizabeth standing outside the facility in a way that suggests she's at the crossroads in terms of where to go next in life. When I saw it, for some reason I expected her romantic interest from earlier in the movie, Robert Forde, to make another appearance. He did not. (Bechdel Test devotees and feminists would likely endorse this narrative choice, understandably.) Because Elizabeth had no personal relationships, and even her professional relationships were all strained as a result of the plot and the consequent fallout thereof, a narrative spotlight seemed to be placed on Robert Forde as the only person who had begun to breach Elizabeth's considerable perimeter defenses. Their relationship was only sexual by Elizabeth's preference, but Robert felt differently. I wanted to see Elizabeth happy, and it wasn't difficult for me to imagine that she could be happy with Robert. This post is my version of how the movie's final scene could have gone. Thanks for reading.
Relationships: Elizabeth Sloane/Robert Forde
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	The Woods

In the visitor restroom of the prison, Elizabeth put on the same outfit she wore when she was arrested 18 months ago: her jeans, and her “Union”-blue Georgetown Law sweater. Elizabeth hadn’t dressed that way since college, but to turn herself in, she wore something that would be easy to take off and swap out for a uniform. The sweater choice was Elizabeth’s attempt at hanging on to a retreating feeling of respectability, leading up to her stay here at the Federal Correctional Institution, Danbury, Connecticut. Putting those clothes back on made Elizabeth feel as though the freeze-framed time had now un-paused, and she was to pick up where she left off. Elizabeth would feel more that way once she got clear of the cage. At the moment she was still on prison grounds; her freedom wasn’t real yet.  


Elizabeth removed her belt from a Ziploc bag and put it on, aligning the buckle with her zipper. Maybe the press would photograph her leaving the grounds and point out that she was wearing the same outfit. If Elizabeth had family or friends, someone could have brought her some different clothes. That’s how it worked for inmates who were connected to the world. Elizabeth’s relationship with Jane was the only one that approached a friendship, but Jane bringing Elizabeth an outfit would have been too assistant-like. Elizabeth had hoped that Esme would become a friend, but of course there was no chance of that now. Esme’s unofficial restraining order against Elizabeth was the least of Esme’s possible responses.  


At the desk, Elizabeth signed documents without bothering to read them, nor did she register the guard’s droning explanation of what Elizabeth was signing. She didn’t need to be a lawyer — former lawyer — to figure that out; broad strokes, the government could do whatever it wanted to her.  


As guards escorted Elizabeth to the exit, she wondered if she was ready. Eighteen months wasn’t a lot of time to change her insides, and Elizabeth’s counseling sessions felt less like an exploration of her actual feelings, and more like a prison-sponsored PSA, colored by the press-disseminated ideas about Her. The psychiatrist watched the news too apparently. 

Moments later, Elizabeth walked out of FCI Danbury into the grey afternoon, spotting a black SUV parked across the street up ahead, with a man in a black suit leaning against it. Elizabeth figured Rodolfo had sent a car, which would impact his firm’s brand differently, depending on whether the public hive brain held her as an amoral drug addict, or some kind of jurisprudential hero. Both were bullshit in Elizabeth’s mind. She hadn’t worked out her post-release travel logistics. FCI had given her $200 in “gate money,” which was probably enough for a bus back to her place in DC. Elizabeth had no phone or wallet on her; she left those items at home as a precaution last year, not trusting FCI to secure them properly during her time served, especially given the reach of her enemies.  


As the driver of the SUV walked over to meet her, Elizabeth recognized Forde, and felt a sudden surge of panic near her sternum.  


They stood facing each other.  


Forde smiled. “You look good.”  


Elizabeth took a moment to decide what to say. “You shouldn’t be here.”  


“What are they gonna do, arrest you twice? They can’t do that right?”  


“Double jeopardy doesn’t apply to congressional hearings and how is that gonna help you?” One hundred feet from the door of the penitentiary and Elizabeth was right back in the saddle.  


Forde counted on his fingers with every sentence. “It’s a matter of public record that you tickled my fancy in the lobby that day. After witnessing your poise during the witchhunt I found you even more attractive. I did my research and looked up your release date.” Forde punctuated his case with a deep gaze. “Holds up fine counselor.”  


“I’ve been disbarred and you missed a detail.”  


“Well I prepped myself. Figures. What I miss?”  


“The lying-about-fucking-me part.”  


“Okay.”  


“Receipts have a funny way of popping up when you least expect it. So always expect it.”  


“Nice to know you care about me.“ Forde chased it with the charming smile.  


”You could still go down for purgery. If it’s ever of political use to anybody, I guarantee it.”  


“Okay so I’m not out of the woods yet.”  


“You may never be out of the fucking woods. I am the woods.”  


Forde laughed. “Ah wow. Have you seen ‘The Dark Knight Rises?’”  


Elizabeth squints.  


“There’s a scene with Bane, do you know who Bane is?”  


“I know who Bane is.”  


“Okay so he’s giving Batman the speech, ‘cause they’re fist-fighting in like a dark warehouse or some shit I can’t remember where it was. Anyway the lights were out, Batman used his technology to shut ‘em off and try to blind Bane. And Bane says, ‘I was born in the dark. You just adopted it.’ So like, I’m in the woods, but you are the woods. Suuuuuper-dramatic.”  


Elizabeth belly-laughed. “You took the scenic route with that one.”  


“I did. Here’s the destination: Are the woods supposed to scare a country boy?”  


Elizabeth felt the panic in her chest again. “You’ve already ruined your life. You back for seconds?”  


“I’m retired.”  


Elizabeth motioned to Forde’s suit and to the SUV. “Driver?”  


“Nah. Preference for neutral colors. Trade habit. Avoid drawing attention.”  


“It’s backfiring. You look like a fed.”  


“Then I fit right in around here. You need a bodyguard?”  


Elizabeth resisted smiling.  


“And this is me,” Forde corrected her, “changing my life.”  


There was a silent moment between them.  


Forde walked over to the vehicle, opened the driver’s side door for Elizabeth, and waited for her decision.


End file.
